“It started with the old cars hidden in the woods…

It was a dump, cars laid astray destroyed and broken—flat tires, and random parts were spread out all over the car graveyard.” Dante, who was our self-appointed storyteller—paused for effect, before starting again ominously.

“ Machines and contraptions made out of spare parts, also were spread out around the forest clearing. Some of the machinery clicked and clacked. The machinery, was intricately put together as if it was breathing. As if it was _alive….”_

“What a bunch of _bullshit,_” Yuna rolls her eyes, “If, it _was real…_ who made the machines?” She juts out her chin—daring him to say something back.

Though Dante, just rolls his eyes back, “Because!” he glares at her, “Why is that part of the forest always being watched?!” He shoots back,

These are my friends, who can _never _seem to agree on something no matter what happens,